Wolf RPG

There really wasn't much to this place. It was hardly as developed as Natigvik in its prime, and the similarities made Kilgitsuk's chest feel horribly vacant as he compared the two. The river here was much more active - likely due to being further south, and thus less frozen even with the snow everywhere - and even now he could witness brave ducks swimming in the calmer sections, or birds that should have been wintering somewhere warm seeking fish by the shore.
His approach spooked some of them in to a lazy, silent flight.

Beyond the river there wasn't much to say about this place. There were no ulax, as there weren't enough women to build a proper circle here; it smelled of mostly men, and as Kilgitsuk meandered along one of the main paths towards the heart of the territory, and the river's thickest section, he came across the scent of @Lestan and was surprised by it.

There was also the more prevalent scent of a man he did not know (@Akavir); this being the strongest among them all, Kilgitsuk presumed he was on the trail of the village chief. Among a copse of trees he found a strong feminine scent which brought to mind his wife, and he turned from it almost immediately, wracked with guilt.

He had returned from the outskirts of the pack lands, his brows furrowed lightly, though otherwise pensive. He was keeping track of a certain herd—he disliked the movement they presented now, and vaguely wondered if they would leave the Rising Sun Valley.

Such was life—the comings and goings of their resources, but with winter upon them, he disliked the potential of less.

The soft crunch of snow drew his eyes upward—the large form of the newcomer in his view. Akavir studied him a moment, stilling his movement for a moment only before loping forward, assessing. “Welcome to the creek,” he offered as he came nearer.

A man. He moved like some kind of panther upon the snow, drawing close. He held the confidence of someone in power - but not to the point of being egocentric about it, somehow. He knew his power and he held firm within it.
Akavir, I presume. Kilgitsuk murmured, assessing the man in return and then averting his gaze. Your man Arric told me of you, and your village. I am Kilgitsuk.
He shook some tension from his shoulders, letting a haze of snow fall from them.
And he said there was some trouble with your settling.

A brief tip of his muzzle in acknowledgement to his name—eyes studying the broad features of the wolf before him. He spoke of a village—the term something he believed to be cultural, perhaps—but only if his assumption of the man’s heritage was correct.

Before he could question, Kilgitsuk brought up the elephant in the creek: the group of wolves that had attacked them within their first week or so of settling. A wry smirk pressed to his muzzle, though it did not fully meet his eyes. “We were attacked by a group of three wolves. Later, another came to claim one of their injured ones, a young girl… So we know there’s at least four of them.” He paused, shoulders rolling back in a shrug. “Or there were four of them—if they lived past their injuries.”

He paused then, gaze slipping past his companion and to the direction of their borders. “We need to send a scout out to ensure they aren’t in a nearby area. The one I had in mind has come in to heat though.” Sending Jakoul now would be like feeding her to the wolves… Literally.

From the sounds of things these men could hold their own, even without the additional bodies. That was a good basis for any battalion - not that this was a military outpost, or anything of the sort. Kilgitsuk could not help but compare what he'd seen of Arric and now Akavir with Tulimaq, or with Tartok, or any of the menfolk he had grown up around; these were hardy people.

When Akavir mentioned needing a scout, Kilgitsuk nodded. I must acclimate to this place anyway, so I could go beyond your village limits. If I see anyone I will not engage unless required to. He somehow doubted anyone would risk a full assault in the middle of winter, especially against someone as scarred and battle-hardened as himself; but that was ego talking.

The reserved man made an offer to scout, and Akavir gave a small nod. He seemed ready to need a task, and given he had just arrived to their territory, it would be beneficial to them. “It would be appreciated—your scent would be unknown to them, and shouldn’t linger too long given you’ve just arrived.”

He paused, assessing the other, his tail giving a thoughtful lash through the air. “Just stay safe. They aren’t a noble crew by any means.” And then, when his muzzle drifted into the direction of the wintry wind, he gave a quick glance around the land he had claimed as home—his birth land. “You speak of villages. From where do you come from?”

Kilgitsuk listened and nodded. He liked the tactical mind of this man - it was sensible, and would be a boon should the group be assailed again. When next the conversation turned to villages, Kilgitsuk did not know what to say; he already carried one lie close to his heart, he wasn't sure if he could handle another. Best to be truthful about something.

I had a home north of here. The village was called Natigvik. The tone of his voice did not welcome questions. It was a part of his life that Kilgitsuk felt great shame about, as he had failed as both a leader and a father. It lasted one season before our numbers were too few to sustain ourselves.

It was the way of things sometimes. It was not the lack of a village that burned Kigipigak and made him take on the trader's mantle; this new name, this distance from his wife and family. It was something much deeper that he could not properly face.

One ear flicked as he listened to the northerner. A small tip of his muzzle revealed he understood. “That happens more often than not,” he voiced, believing this to be true. For whatever reason it might be, it was hard to hold on to a pack through a lifetime—everything changed so quickly.

“I was born here,” he offered, suspecting the man did not want to linger on the topic of his lost home, nor garner sympathy. “Then it disbanded… and as the years past, I decided it was time to come back and reclaim.”

And hopefully, it would last.

Even if it was commonplace for wolves to make homes and lose them, it did not happen to Kilgitsuk; he'd dedicated his time to honoring his bonds, to sticking with his work and keeping the peace. As soon as he'd wanted something different - a family, a home built of his own toil - he had felt accomplished, and then it was ruined. He could not reconcile his strong opinions about what makes a man and losses he'd recently faced. Those successes were important to him, and the failures earth-shattering.

I was born here, Akavir admitted. That drew Kilgitsuk away from the momentary sorrow, and listened with an open and aching heart to the familiar tale. Yes — there was always the chance of trying again, rebuilding. What could Kilgitsuk do but continue on? He should have tried harder. It was not a motivating sentiment that Akavir imparted to Kilgitsuk, but more pain; at least, that was how the wounded man had taken it.

Maybe one day I can retake my village. I can rebuild. But... It is hard, knowing that my family is not what it once was. He did not want to dwell on it so openly now, not before his alpha. He could be weak in private and keep it all contained. The man drew a breath and seemed to steel himself.
There is always tomorrow.

Little did the pale wolf know just how much the shadow runner understood this. His wife dead—daughters astray from one another, assuming both alive and not just the one. Distantly, he stared to the direction of the mountains, a frown pulling itself upon his facade. The Empire had lived there—had that been the beginning of their ruin, or the moment he had thought pulling his family from their home had been for their safety and benefit?

“You can. You will,” he decided, deciding the northerner’s advice was sound in this moment. “There’s always tomorrow,” he agreed, and with a nod of his muzzle in quiet camaraderie, he invited the man to continue a patrol with him, drawn to the comfortable silence that fell over them.